Santa Fe

New York City
 Uh-huh
 Center of the universe
 Sing it, girl
 Times ain't pretty
 But I'm sure they can't get any worse
 I hear ya
 It's a comfort to know
 When you're singing the hit-the-road blues
 That anywhere else you could possibly go after New York would be
 A pleasure cruise
 Now you are talkin'
 Well, I'm thwarted by a metaphysic puzzle, hm?
 And I'm sick of grading papers, that I know
 I'm shouting in my sleep, I need a muzzle
 All this misery pays no salary, so
 Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
 Sunny Santa Fe would be nice
 We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
 And leave this to the roaches and mice
 Woah, woah, woah, woah
 Woah, woah, woah, woah
 You teach?
 I teach computer-age philosophy
 But my students would rather watch TV
 America
 America
 You're a sensitive aesthete
 Brush the sauce onto the meat
 You could make the menu sparkle with rhyme
 You could drum a gentle drum
 And I could seat guests as they come
 Chatting not about Heidegger, but wine
 Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
 Our labors will reap financial gains
 We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
 And save from devastation our brains
 We'll pack up all our junk and fly so far away
 Devote ourselves to projects that sell
 We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
 And quit this cold Bohemian hell
 Oh, oh, woah, woah
 Woah, woah, woah, woah
 Woah, woah, woah
 Woah, woah, woo
 Woah, woah
 Do you know the way to Santa Fe?
 You know, tumbleweeds and prairie dogs
 Yeah